


The Tunnel of Love

by Cactaceae28



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet, Episode Fix-it, Episode: s06e16 Change of Heart, F/M, Friendship, Introspection, Julian and Jadzia are bros, M/M, Nothing will change my mind, Romance, Worf is Understanding, and also because Garashir, because no, but Jadzia loves him platonically all the same, julian is a mess, they are best bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cactaceae28/pseuds/Cactaceae28
Summary: Quark was partially right; he had been letting his shot at happiness slip away, eroded by fear and complacency. Quark was just wrong about the person occupying his thoughts.But things didn’t have to stay that way. No, Julian was quite done playing it safe.
Relationships: Jadzia Dax/Worf, Julian Bashir & Jadzia Dax, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	The Tunnel of Love

Worf has just entered the Infirmary after his shift to visit his wife when he hears the hushed voices on the private room and an instinct tells him not to announce his presence. Instead he quietly approaches the door and the voices start becoming more distinct. He recognizes the doctor speaking softly, almost too softly to be heard over the noise of the machines, but Worf is close enough to be able to make out the words.

“I’m sorry Jadzia. After all we said, I’ve gone and done something foolish.”

A year ago, he would have been jealous at the gentle tone and the implied intimacy of it. He would have stormed the Infirmary and demanded an explanation and possibly would have done irreparable damage to his relationship with the most important person in his life. This time he waits, choosing to put his trust in her even through the vice threatening to grip his heart.

“You told him?” He hears his Par’mach’ai ask, and for all that her voice is just as soft and layered with meaning as the doctor’s, for all that it hints at a world of moments between them that Worf will never know, the pain in his chest disappears as soon as it has come, since he’s secure in the knowledge of all that he does have.

There’s a poignant pause on the other side, an answer delivered without words and a small watery laugh. Worf stays long enough to hear the beginnings of a story and a confession – and quietly turns around, granting the two friends a few moments of privacy.

-

After the utter disaster that is his first serious attempt at playing tongo, Julian goes to his quarters and proceeds to get drunk.

It’s irresponsible and idiotic, and he’s going to pay for it tomorrow when he has to report to the morning shift, but at the moment he doesn’t very much care. He is feeling utterly maudlin, the alcohol leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, but it is the only way he has to try and still the downward spiral of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him.

After all, Quark has rather hit the nail in the head. Julian has wasted years wavering between building the courage to say something and regretting the cowardice that has always held him back. There’s a dull but persistent pain in his chest that grows worse for every second he spends trying to wrestle his emotions back as he tries and fails to reassert reason in the wake of the hurricane of destruction left behind by the bartender’s words.

He used to think that he had it under control. Lately he has started to feel that he has finally reached a plateau of not-quite-contentedness but… acceptance. That he has finally moved past these stupid, dangerous feelings he can’t afford, that there is now a slate which, if it isn’t quite cleaned, it’s at least close enough to allow him to move forward. After all, it had probably been nothing more than a fantasy. Yes, he is likely just romanticizing something that has never been there.

Yet, it has only taken one conversation, a vapid bluff made to win a meaningless game, to bring the paper-thin walls down once again. Quark is right, for the most part. Julian has wondered, constantly, if he’s letting his one chance at happiness slip away, if he should do more, be more assertive, take a chance. Julian has noticed that it has been years since he last thought wistfully of Palis, that when he’s in a morose mood a very different person intrudes into his every waking thought.

Quark (and Miles) are only wrong about the identity of that person.

Ironically, Jadzia is the only one who actually _knows_ , the only one who can understand the mess of regrets and love and fear, the myriad of right reasons that have led him time and again to the same choice, or lack-thereof.

Jadzia is, after all, the one Julian has always gone to when the doubts grow too big to be ignored, when he needs the push to ignore the pull of his heart and to return to his distance and his duty and his responsibilities to Starfleet. She’s the one who has listened as he outlines all the ways they do not fit and will never fit together.

She’s the one who reigned him in that first time, the one who reminded him of the flimsy foundation of his initial attraction (“After all, it’s not as if the two of you are friends”) when he would have plunged right ahead, burned himself in a flame of passion and lust that would not have lasted back then. She’s the only one who saw past his oath as a doctor and straight to the core of the reason that sent him running to a man that would have destroyed him for no reason but his own amusement; she’s the one who cautioned him that a relationship couldn’t spring from loss and pain and withdrawal.

She’s the one with whom he can share his honest fears of what it would mean to pursue a relationship with a former spy who is relentless in his devotion to the state, a man who lies and manipulates as easy as he breathes, who would have left Kira to either death or a life of doubt and deception, who may have done worse to Odo during that fateful offensive that failed (“He set off a bomb on the Promenade”). The fears on what may have happened had it _not_ failed.

She’s the only one of his friends who has been told the full, unaltered story of the holo-suite incident, because though it is highly unlikely that she’s been the only one to put the pieces together, she’s the only one to have confronted him about it (“There’s no way you could have missed that shot”). She’s the one who was eventually told about the nightmares, not of missing, but of the choice possibly coming again, of the chance that one day he will have to choose and that by then he may have forgotten how to care.

All of his friends notice his shock after the events on the Founder’s new home-planet. All of them find subtle ways to show their support, thinking that he’s horrified by his near murder, by the attempted genocide. He is. But Jadzia is the only one who knows he can’t help but take it as further confirmation of his worst fears, feeling that if he compromises here, he may not be able to make a stand one day further down the line (Jadzia shakes her head and says nothing).

Jadzia’s the one who understands how easy it would be to lose what he has built on the wake of what he is, the first to notice the mental jump after the Institute’s augmented residents come to the station, how after a few days he stops thinking in terms of ‘they’ and ‘theirs’ but rather ‘we’ and ‘us’ and ‘ours’.

With the single exception of Miles, she’s also the one who best knows how to navigate the landmines in his psyche, the one who has spent years, even before she knew the truth, even before he stopped idolizing her, helping him build a foundation that for once in his life doesn’t depend on his abilities or his secret but on something more solid: real self-esteem.

But on this night, with the shadows of regrets and doubts hiding in every corner, she is not here. He is alone in his quarters, drinking his woes away, unable to think of anything but the infuriating man who can send his heart racing with nothing but a comment, a smirk, a look.

Did he imagine the heat of all those arguments in years past, the hint of some deeper feeling? Were those side-long glances on the Defiant nothing more than wishful thinking? Are all of his reasons still valid, or are they just excuses for his inaction now?

He’s still a Starfleet officer, but the Obsidian Order is gone. He’s still human, but an exile from Cardassia is no longer an enemy. He’s still an exception, but he has friends who won’t let him fall. He’s still seventeen years younger, but he’s no longer a boy. He has seen some of the worst aspects of two quadrants, but he has also seen so many people rise above them. He’s a mutant but… he still has something to offer.

He stands up and the bottle tips on the table, rolling until it comes to a stop precariously tipped on the edge, what little remains of the golden liquid sloshing inside but not quite spilling out.

The simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be talked out of this anymore. He’s quite done playing it safe. Whatever happens tomorrow, next month or ten years from now, for tonight he’s willing to bet his heart on the outcome.

He squares his shoulders, straightens his uniform and leaves all his doubts behind.

-

Jadzia sighs and relaxes on the biobed. She’s still tired enough to sleep for a week, but first she has to work through the fierce feeling of protectiveness surging through her veins. It isn’t the first time she has gone through something like this; in fact as the decades of experience pile up, several of the symbiont’s hosts have witnessed many variants of this same story. Sometimes, their advice has helped; other times it has not.

Sometimes it has worked for the best. Other times it has not.

The sound of steps alerts her to a new presence in the room, and she opens her eyes. She smiles broadly as her husband sits down by her side, feeling her heart flutter when he looks straight into her eyes, even two months after the wedding.

“Hello, handsome. It took you long enough to come visit me.”

Worf fixes a reproachful look on his face that only lasts for a moment before a slight quirk of the lips takes its place.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You were busy,” and oh, she can hear the reassurance and the implicit apology in his voice, the full trust laid bare for her to see, and the only way to even try to give it form is thinking that… maybe she can deal with a less pampered honeymoon, after all.

Jadzia knows she’s a very lucky woman. She has long since learnt that sometimes even the most unlikely of pairings can blossom into something extraordinary. So, for the moment, she’ll simply keep a watchful eye on her friend… and fully embrace her own happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> 06/01/2020: Fixed some typos and grammar issues.  
> 12/01/2020: Now with a small sequel dealing with Jadzia's promise to keep an eye on Garak and giving him fair warning: [Measure Twice, Cut Once](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226560)  
> 


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